Skies of Gor

A Work in Progress

A Work in Progress

Loki sighed and grabbed her 'secret project'. She had been working on it for a while now, and the other merchants were rather curious as to what the 'Tiny Man-Child' would do today, as it was the day that she claimed her project would be done.

Two weeks ago, she had drunkenly declared that the saddles used for high tharlarion were ridiculously made, bulky, and hard to sit in without wanting to just ride bareback. Her boss, the Head Merchant, had asked 'Well why not make your own?' She had accepted the challenge, and after a morning of agonizing over whether to follow through with it or not, she decided having something to do other than ferrying goods sounded perfect. So, after asking for two weeks off, and buying various hides from the VT Panthers, she had set to work.

She drew on her memories of horse riding gear, as well as riding straps from Earth rodeos, carriage harnesses, and various Tarn saddles. The end result was a rather simple affair; A small 'saddle', little more than a bit of padded bosk leather would lay across the lizard's back, while two sets of straps, two in the front and two in the middle, would buckle around the neck and barrel respectively. Directly behind the neck straps were large iron rings, one sewn on each side with goatskin and binding thread, to tie carrying sacks, bells or [she knew this would be how it would mostly be used for] a way to keep a captive near.

Aside from the iron rings and saddle straps, this saddle was unique in that instead of stirrups, loops of tightly-braided leather were attached to each saddle strap, linking them together while allowing for multiple handholds and footholds. There was also a single thick leather strap, sewn vertically into the saddle where a pommel would normally be, as well as two large pouches sewn into the sides of the saddle, behind the barrel straps and on either side of the pommel strap. Each pouch was made of tharlarion leather, like the straps and was one-fourth the size of the saddle, with a deep pocket on the inside. All in all, this saddle was meant to be multipurpose, used for racing, as well as for battle, casual travel, trade and hunting.

Now she just had to test it out.

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Half an hour later she was clinging for dear life to the pommel strap, trying not to fall off as her tharlarion Drail ran through the tall grass like his tail was on fire. She had made the entirety of the saddle, harness and bags light- Too light, so much that to her tharlarion, it was like there was nothing but a little weight of equally little consequence. She had work to do, but first, she had to get off this death ride.

"Slow down, damn you!" Lokiande hissed. "Slow d- Augh!" And she was flung from the saddle, weightless in the air but a moment before gravity remembered what down meant. Then she was on the ground, wheezing while Drail shook himself and turned frantically in a circle, snapping and clawing at the saddle she had worked nearly two weeks on.

She had meant to force a turn, and thus, a stop. What she hadn't counted on was Drail using that turn as a springboard, leaping and actually bucking forward. Now winded, she staggered to her feet, watching in horror as Drail spun about, tearing at the saddlebags like a beast possessed. Two weeks of work was being ripped apart like a sugar high brat would tear open their birthday gifts, or bash open a piñata.

"Well that's just gre-"

"Tal there, Tiny Man-Child!" a familiar voice called from above. Drail paused in his destruction to hiss at the Incoming Flying Object.

And there goes the rest of my day, she thought to herself. Scowling, she shaded her eyes from the midday sun, looking up as a Tarnsman landed his mount, giving the traditional hand motion almost as an afterthought. This Tarnsman was about average for a man of Gor; that is to say broad-shouldered, built like a tank, and with an unmistakable air of smug confidence that would make anyone on Earth want to punch him. His eyes stared at all he did not yet own as if it would be his, casually assessing and looking over everything like a hungry lion.